“I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ” Thank Heaven! Mr.
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